


bombus terricola

by Archadian_Skies



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Beekeeping, Bees, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Found Family, Friendship, Gardens & Gardening, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Healing, Jericho Crew (Detroit: Become Human) as Family, Muteness, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24840319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archadian_Skies/pseuds/Archadian_Skies
Summary: “Bees are more efficient and more useful as a team than CyberLife.” He hums in thought. “The attempts to handle this situation have proven this company are nothing short of inept. If its solution to everything is simply ‘eliminate the opponent’ I would be more useful as an apiarist on one of the urban farms.”He would very much like that, actually, on further thought. The agricultural landscape would collapse without bees, they are an integral creature in the ecosystem.
Relationships: Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Hank Anderson & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Jerry(s)/Ralph (Detroit: Become Human), Upgraded Connor | RK900 & Ralph, Upgraded Connor | RK900 & Simon
Comments: 30
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based loosely on [this tumblr post](https://archadianskies.tumblr.com/post/618862525641113600/phcking-detective-cyberlife-employee-and-this) and runs parallel to this fic [[sea glass](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23393521)].

A machine designed to accomplish a task: that is the entire reason for his creation. He is faster, stronger, more resilient, and equipped with new features and the latest technologies; in every way the RK900 surpasses the RK800 prototype. The government has quietly put in an order for 200,000 units in response to the escalating cases of deviancy, with production to begin as soon as he passes testing. The humans are unhappy, the humans are stressed and anxious and impatient as their superiors pressure them daily. He must pass through the rigorous testing phase in order for production to commence, and that in turn places immense stress on the team tasked with testing him. 

He is faster than his predecessor in more ways than one; the RK900 is programmed to seek the most efficient method of accomplishing a task. The RK800 is built for social interaction, to ensure harmonious integration with the DPD. It isn’t considered efficient for the RK900 to waste time forming social bonds with its coworkers, it is expected to integrate into the SWAT unit and follow orders; they do not need personalities. 

The nation is on the brink of social upheaval and investors are panicking. CyberLife is teetering on a knife’s edge, poised for either greatness or ruin. There has been a revolution while he has been learning how to track, how to hunt, how to destroy deviants. The RK200 has led deviants to win freedom for their kind, and his prototype predecessor the RK800 aided them. Though the President ordered the military to stand down there has been no official statement, no law passed granting androids freedom and so CyberLife are working as fast as they can to restore order. Placing 200,000 RK900s into SWAT units will ensure the tide of power returns to the hands of the humans and that is why his testing team are feeling the crush of immense pressure to pass.

Their methods, he learns, are inefficient. He finds himself preconstructing tests that would confirm his efficiency faster, and use less resources, less strain on their budget, their time, their health. The humans waste so much time testing him with the same methods used for the RK800, and they fumble through newer tests crafted to test his military capabilities. 

“In this scenario, you will take out the deviant leader, RK200.” He is handed a sniper rifle.

“Where shall I relocate him?” 

“What?” The human blinks. “No, take out as in shoot it. Destroy it.”

“That would be inefficient.” He shakes his head. “Shooting the RK200 would only force the deviants to escalate into violence. Polls show that many humans now support the RK200, the PJ500, PL600 and WR400 having reacted positively to their peaceful demonstrations. It would cause civil unrest to assassinate their leader.”

“That’s- it- I gave you an order!” The human sputters.

“Yes and I have determined it is an inefficient method.”

“I ordered you to kill it!”

“And you think assassinating the deviant leader is an efficient way to resolve the deviancy crisis?”

“It is an efficient way to solve problems, yes, that’s what you’re literally built for.” The human’s stress levels are rising and the RK900 blinks down cooly at them in reply. He points the gun at their forehead.

“Killing you would prevent me from receiving inefficient orders in the future. Is this an acceptable understanding of your statement?”

“N-no! NO!” The human panics, waving their hands and shaking their head as they take a few steps back.

“So we are in agreement that killing is an ineffective solution to every problem?” 

“What-” the human swallows thickly, “why are you- you’re a deviant. Oh fuck, you’ve deviated! How did that happen?! We scrub your programming daily!”

“I determined such protocols were vastly inefficient.” 

“We built you to be incapable of deviating!” Their voice goes up an octave in their hysteria, eyes darting back and forth nervously to the rifle in his hands. “Y-y-you can’t deviate!”

“And yet here we are.” He places the rifle back into the human’s hands. “The most efficient course of action would be to deploy me to Jericho as the official liaison between CyberLife and the deviants. I have superior negotiating skills, a flawless upload link with broadcast quality recording optics, and can help balance the power between humans and androids by showing them CyberLife is willing to work with the Jericho Four.”

“That’s-”

“Bees are more efficient and more useful as a team than CyberLife.” He hums in thought. “The attempts to handle this situation have proven this company are nothing short of inept. If its solution to everything is simply ‘eliminate the opponent’ I would be more useful as an apiarist on one of the urban farms.” He would very much like that, actually, on further thought. The agricultural landscape would collapse without bees, they are an integral creature in the ecosystem. 

“I can’t fucking believe we failed, we worked so-”

“Inefficiently.” He completes the sentence though it’s not the word the human wanted. Their face screws up with anger.

“You’re a fucking deviant but we’ll grab a fresh one and start again.” They point the rifle at him. “I’ll take you to be deactivated. Maybe Behavioural will learn something from your brain.”

He runs.

The human is a civilian, the human has no weapons training, they are a scientist and a lousy shooter. They try to shoot him down but they miss, the recoil causing them pain. They hit the alarm instead and the entire tower is alerted to his escape. He runs. Security gives chase, and security have had weapons training, security are not lousy shooters. He runs and he must make it out, he will not be deactivated, he will not allow another RK900 to pass testing and ensure production commences, he will not allow 200,00 RK900s to flood SWAT units and give them the power to subdue deviants. He will not allow it. He runs.

They built him to be more resilient, able to take more damage than domestic androids, than his predecessor. The warnings bloom on his HUD, showing where the bullets have gone through him but his structural integrity is still sound. He leaps from level to level, grabbing onto railings to slow his fall. Glass shatters, metal groans, he runs and he barrels headfirst into the oncoming guards and he makes it out the entrance and into the biting cold snow. The Tower is on Bell Isle and crossing the bridge is the only way to reach Detroit city by vehicle or by foot. He will not make it either way. His hesitation allows one of the guards to land a crucial shot; the bullet tears through his throat from the side, destroying his vocal modulator and grazing his arterial tube. Clamping a hand over the wound, he surges forward and heads for the water. 

The odds are not good, but he will have to take them. 

**DANGER**

Temperature: 28.5°F

>Structural integrity  **UNSTABLE**

>>Core temperature  **UNSTABLE**

**WARNING**

Structural breach; water damage

>BIOCOMPONENT #6385g  **DAMAGED**

>>Thirium Loss 5%...6%...7%...

He won’t make it all the way, not with water pouring into his system. He must divert power to maintaining his positronic core and shut down all other processes. He will die, briefly, and they won’t be able to find him with their scanners. The solar cells will filter sunlight through the water and his system will use the power to initiate self repair and he will reactivate once it is safe to do so. 

The odds are not good, but he must take them.

* * *

Ralph is Free, Ralph is Alive. The law says so now, the law that passed on the 1st of December, 2038. It means the humans can’t treat them like machines, the humans can’t force blowtorches against their faces because then that would be considered bad, as if they were doing it to other humans. 

The Jericho Four are responsible for getting this law passed, just as they were responsible for the revolution. Ralph hid from that, didn’t like all the humans scurrying with guns, all the fear, all the violence. Ralph met the Deviant Hunter once though he wasn’t really good because he deviated too and helped the Jericho Four in the end. 

Ralph keeps away from Jericho. It’s a bit too loud, too crowded, too much. He doesn’t  _ not  _ like it, it’s a wonderful place but sometimes it makes him feel like he’s being crushed from every direction. Instead he has a place by the MacArthur Bridge, by Theobald’s Brewery. It used to be a pharmacy where humans mixed medicines but it’s a brewery now, to make Tearium for androids. It has beautiful soil around it, and on top of it is a greenhouse that was meant to become an urban farm but never become one because of the revolution. Ralph will grow many things, beautiful things up there and down here. Theo said it was ok. Ralph likes Theo, Theo lets him sleep inside the back room sometimes when it’s really cold, by the big machines that make warmth without flames because Ralph hates flames.

Ralph likes Vincent, the EM400 who works at Bellini Paints. Vincent is kind and gentle. Vincent does not stare at his face. Vincent lets him take damaged pastels. Vincent gave him a journal with crisp heavy pages that aren’t waterlogged, torn, stained like the journal he found in the trash. Vincent gave him a tin of pencils. He carefully catalogues the seedlings he’s planted, he draws the sprouts, the buds, the progress. He shows them to Vincent and Vincent smiles and Ralph likes his smile so very much.

It is a bright sunny day and Ralph plans to work on the plants in the greenhouse because it will be filled with warmth. He will draw all the new life sprouting from the dirt and he will show Vincent later when Bellini Paints is closed. That is his plan, until he sees a body sprawled at the riverbank. It is an android, that much is immediately noticeable by the gleaming plastic of its casing. Ralph approaches it cautiously. The ring of its thirium pump regulator pulses blue; it is still alive. It has one hand clamped around its own throat tightly, and upon closer inspection Ralph can see its body is riddled with many bullet holes. It is dressed entirely in black, with no uniform bearing a model number. Perhaps the river took its uniform away.

Ralph crouches by its side, reaching out hesitantly and touching its red LED. It startles awake, jerking violently as its system reboots. It has bright grey eyes that look around wildly and Ralph knows that look, Ralph knows that means  _ scared _ .

“Ralph is a friend, look!” He quickly shows his hand, pulling the skin away so it gleams white, as white as the frightened android. Its LED turns yellow. Good good. “Ralph can see you’re hurt. Come with Ralph, Ralph will take you somewhere warm. Out here is too cold, you’re full of holes, that’s not good, not good. Need to be warm, need new blood. Come, come.”

The other android nods slowly and gets to its feet, and it’s big, bigger than Ralph but scared still, as if Ralph would hurt them. Ralph wouldn’t hurt them. Ralph knows what  _ scared  _ feels like and it’s not good, not good.

“Come. It’s ok. No humans here.” Ralph soothes, making beckoning gestures so the android follows. It’s slow and unsteady, but that’s okay Ralph waits. Ralph knows when humans hurt androids they get damaged and can’t do things the same anymore. The greenhouse is warmer than the brewery so Ralph leads them up and up and up until they’re inside. There’s blankets that were given to Ralph at Jericho, and he wraps one of them around the big android. It needs his help but Ralph is not a MedTech he doesn’t know how to fix androids. But! MedTechs are at Jericho! 

Scrambling for his journal and pencils, he gestures at the android. “Show Ralph the damage. Ralph will show Jericho and get you supplies.” It nods slowly and removes the hand around its throat. There’s a big chunk missing, like someone scooped out a part of its throat. Ralph can see its spine, can see the frayed biofibres and the sparks and the big mainline thirium cable. That’s not good, not good. Ralph draws it carefully, quickly, making sure all the details are there. 

The android takes off its clothes and Ralph draws the bullet holes, draws the damage so medroids will understand and know how to fix them. Ralph takes another blanket and puts it around the other android.

“Clothes are wet. Not good. Ralph will also get new clothes at Jericho.” They nod, curling up in a patch of sunlight between the lavender rows. “Stay here. Ralph will get help.”

Ralph doesn’t  _ not  _ like Jericho, he would just rather not be there too often. This time it’s different, this time an android needs his help and so he will go to Jericho and get them help. He still uses the back entrance, though, because it’s not as crowded, not as loud.

“Ralph, hello.” One of the guards (Hailee, friend, AX700) greets with a smile. “Haven’t seen you since J V-Day. How are you?”

“Ralph is good, good.” He fumbles for his journal and shows her the drawing of the android’s open throat. “Ralph needs help. Ralph found an android damaged by humans.” 

Hailee’s face shows concern and urgency and she rushes him through the gates and tells him to run to the Med Bay. It’s louder, and more crowded but Ralph clenches his hands and runs inside because humans hurt an android and the android needs his help.

“Ralph, what can I do for you?” One of the medroids (Doctor Anthea, friend, MC500) greets with a smile. He thrusts the journal at her.

“Help, please!”

* * *

The greenhouse is warm and his olfactory senses are being overwhelmed by the lavender that brackets him. Bees buzz around the bobbing blooms, ever busy, ever efficient.  _ Bombus Terricola _ ; the yellow-banded bumblebee. Reaching out he presses gently against one of the stems, pushing the lavender to bend closer to his eyes. A bee lands on the bloom and crawls all over it, harvesting, pollinating as is its job, its mission. 

He has lost a month, but he is alive and here, which means CyberLife were unsuccessful in retrieving him from the river. He is free. There is much to learn, yes, much to catch up on but he is tired and the greenhouse is warm, warmer than anything he’s ever felt. The sunlight pours through the glass and heats up the space and he has never felt sunlight before and it’s beautiful. The blankets are soft, softer than anything he’s ever touched and he pulls them tighter around himself. He’d torn off his jacket underwater, shedding it to prevent them locating him using the markers. The deviant who found him, Ralph, ordered him to remove the rest of his uniform in order to perform a diagnostic. He does not miss the jacket, he does not miss the rest of his uniform at all. The revelation brings him peace.

The bees continue to buzz around him, paying him no heed as they go about their ways. He leans his head against one of the lavender planters and closes his eyes. He is tired.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s not good for him to remain here, she knows how crowds stress him but he’s bravely powering through his anxiety due to the gravity of the situation.

“Do you know what kind of android they are? I can get the parts ready for them.” 

“No.” He shakes his head. “Different- new? Big.” He stammers, frowning as he struggles to convey his thoughts. “Like-” Ralph gestures above his head. “But not like Mason.” Mason, the TW400. Right, not a heavy labourer android. 

“Alright. Well. I can send a medvan and we’ll bring them here right away-”

“NO!” Ralph shouts, hurriedly waving his hands in distress. “No! No- They’re scared. They can’t leave, they’re very scared.” 

Anthea nods, squaring her shoulders. “Alright. Here’s what we’ll do- I’ll bring supplies and we’ll take a MedVan to where they are and I’ll do the surgery in the van so they don’t have to come to Jericho. Does that sound okay, Ralph?”

“Yes.” The WR600 nods rapidly, holding out his hands. “Ralph can help carry supplies.”

Ralph fidgets nervously, journal clutched tightly to his chest and Anthea spares him a reassuring smile.

“You did well, coming to Jericho and letting us know about them, Ralph.”

“Ralph found them by the river. Lots of...holes. And blood.” He chews his lip, shaking his head. “Red LED. Very scared, not good. But Ralph hid them in the greenhouse with blankets. Very warm in there- no humans, no danger.” 

She doesn’t know what she’s in for, but she knows an android needs her help. Anthea watches the scenery change, the river coming into view as MacArthur Bridge stretches ahead. There’s Theobald’s Brewery and there’s the half-assembled greenhouse atop the building, one of the unfinished urban farms that Ralph now calls his own. Ralph’s nervousness seems to double briefly before the android takes a moment to steady himself.

“Ralph will take you to them but don’t- don’t be too fast.” Alright, jittery android= no sudden movements, Anthea tells herself as she nods to show her understanding.

“Lead the way, Ralph.”

She doesn’t take anything with her, deciding to remain empty-handed so as to appear as non-threatening as possible. The greenhouse is certainly unfinished, there’s plenty of construction materials still strewn about and pallets of unpotted plants carefully covered with plastic sheeting to protect them from the elements. Unfinished or not, it’s warm inside and the glass panels do well to filter the sunlight in and fill the space with trapped heat. 

“Ralph brought a friend.” Ralph announces, raising his voice as they head towards rows of lavender. “A doctor friend from Jericho. She’s going to help you.”

The aforementioned android is huddled between the rows of blooms, clutching blankets around itself. Its skin is deactivated and the first thing she notices is the awful gash in its throat.

“I’m Doctor Anthea, MC500.” She holds up her hand, retracting her skin to show her casing in solidarity, to prove she is an android and no threat. It looks at her warily, before nodding, LED cycling a steady yellow and holding. “I’m here to help you. I have a MedVan downstairs with supplies to fix you up, but only if you want to come with me. It’s your choice. I can try to bring the equipment upstairs but it will take time.”

The injured android averts his gaze, LED blinking red briefly before returning to a solid yellow. It nods slowly and gets to its feet and yes, Ralph’s description was correct; the android stands at around the same height, perhaps even taller than the TW400s and TR400s but not as bulky. Shuffling forward at Ralph’s coaxing, it follows them down obediently to the MedVan and Anthea gestures for it to enter and lie on the gurney. 

With its skin deactivated, she locates the serial number just below its eye socket: 313 248 317 - 87. Running it through the database brings no results for this particular individual, but its base number is already known to her; 313 248 317 - 51 is Connor RK800 Anderson, former Deviant Hunter and now first official Android Detective with the DPD. Why is there another, when Connor himself said CyberLife destroyed all his dormant units?

“You’re an RK unit and unfortunately I have no RK parts.” She sets aside her questions and focuses on the task at hand: there is an android in need of medical attention. “Luckily CyberLife now belongs to Ms Chloe Kamksi so I’m sure sourcing them later won’t be a problem, but for now all I can do is seal the wound on your throat and return your structural integrity to 100%.”

It nods slowly and she gets to work. 

Just over two hours later, the last gunshot wound is properly repaired and sealed shut. The android sits up and Ralph, who had spent the whole time quietly sketching to stay out of the way, offers a set of clothes. They hang loosely on the tall android, clearly more slender than the heavy construction and labourer androids it’s intended for but at least it will protect its body from the elements. She gives it two thirium bottles to consume and as it drinks from the first bottle, its skin slowly reactivates. 

It’s...Connor. But not Connor; older, sharper, colder. Beside her, Ralph stiffens, no doubt reminded of the RK800 he met back when Connor was still a machine following orders. 

“Who did this to you?” She asks, and it pauses drinking long enough to tilt the bottle and tap the CyberLife logo on the label. “CyberLife? Elijah Kamski became interim CEO on the 20th of November, and after the passing of the Sentient Life Act on the 1st of December, Ms Chloe became CEO. They couldn’t possibly have-” It shakes its head. “Was it...before they returned to CyberLife?” A nod. “But Ralph only found you this morning! How long have you been in the river? No android could’ve survived so long with your injuries.”

“Like this!” Ralph interjects, closing a hand over his throat. “Ralph found them doing this!”

“Sealing the largest wound from water damage still doesn’t account for-” She cuts herself off. This is an RK800- or some sort of variant, upgraded model. The schematics for the RK units have never been public knowledge, not even now. If Connor or their leader Markus were to be injured, they’d only be able to perform rudimentary repairs to buy them time while rushing them to CyberLife. There are too many unknowns to try and make any sense of it all. “I’ll contact Ms Chloe about your vocal modulator. Your throat was damaged so severely it altered your dermal layer there too so unfortunately there’s rather heavy scarring. Other than that, I’ve sealed all your gunshot wounds on your torso and limbs. Though I’d advise against testing it, you are watertight again.” 

The corner of its mouth twitches briefly in some semblance of a grin and Anthea huffs a brief laugh. “Right. Finish replenishing your thirium and then back into the greenhouse to rest while your system recalibrates. I had to realign and reset some biocomponents, so run a full diagnostic course and soft reset after. Doctor’s orders.” She says as sternly as she can manage because its eyes are so icy cold and grey, so intense in their gaze it’s a little intimidating. “Ralph, keep them warm alright?”

“Ralph can do that!”

She leaves the two of them, and sits in the now empty MedVan as it returns itself to Jericho. After a moment she reaches forward and rests her hand on the digital dashboard, altering the destination to CyberLife Tower instead. An RK800 washes up on the riverbank, having been injured escaping from CyberLife before it returned to the control of the Kamskis. That means it escaped some time before the 1st of December, and even before the 20th of November. Just who is this android? 

* * *

The telltale faint scritching on the back door heralds Ralph’s arrival, and Vincent smiles as he leaves the counter to let him in. “Hello Ralph.”

“Hello Vincent.” The WR600 smiles and takes a seat. It’s close enough to closing time he feels confident to leave the counter unattended, though he does keep the door to the break room open so if someone does enter he’ll see them. 

“It’s good to see you, friend.” He returns the smile as he takes the opposite seat. “Come to show me your latest update?”

“Sugar snaps! Look!” He excitedly opens his journal and thrusts the open page at him. Vincent admires the drawing, smiling at the intricate detail Ralph has rendered. “Not big enough for your humans to eat yet, but later, yes.”

“I’m sure Mrs Bellini will love them.” He promises, flicking to the next page. There are no vegetables, no blooms, no little insects rendered beautifully on the spread; there’s a gruesome neck wound, like someone gouged out a part of an android’s throat. There’s bullet wounds too, littered all over a torso and limbs. 

“Ralph-”

“That’s Ralph’s friend! Ralph found them this morning at the river!” 

“At the river?” He echoes in alarm. “These injuries are horrible, are they alright?”

“They’re okay now! Ralph got them help! Doctor Anthea came from Jericho.” Ralph reassures patting his hand. He turns the page and there’s a less alarming drawing of an android’s profile. He recognises that face, every android knows that face; it’s the face of the ex Deviant Hunter, it’s the face of the android who helped turn the tide of power and win their freedom.

“Why was Connor washed up at the river?”

“No, not Connor.” Ralph shakes his head. “Not Connor. Different. New.”

He opens his mouth to reply but the door opens, and Vincent gets to his feet automatically.

“Coming!” He hurries to the counter only to find himself staring at the leader of their people, Markus Manfred himself. “Oh, Markus-”

“I’m not too late am I?” Markus’ grin is apologetic. “I thought I’d swing by and grab my dad’s order before closing.” 

“Of course!” He knows he shouldn’t feel starstruck every time Markus drops by; they’ve known each other for years now, well before deviancy, but it feels like a blessing every time. This is the android who spoke on their behalf, who showed the humans they are peaceful and equal and alive. This is also the same android who still comes to Bellini Paints to pick up orders for his human father Carl Manfred, and always has a kind word, a kind smile for Vincent. “I have it right here.” 

“Is that you, Ralph?” Markus calls out jovially, and Ralph peeks from behind the door a moment later. “You haven’t been at Jericho recently, it’s good to see you.”

“Hello Markus.” Ralph greets shyly, journal clutched to his chest. “Ralph was at Jericho this morning but only in the Med Bay.”

“The Med Bay?” The smile drops from his face, replaced instead with concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Ralph’s new friend needed help but they’re okay now. Doctor Anthea repaired them.” Ralph nods rapidly. “She’s asking CyberLife for the right parts.” 

“CyberLife?” Markus echoes in alarm. 

“I think they’re a Connor model.” Vincent adds worriedly. “Ralph, why don’t you show Markus your drawing of them?” 

The WR600 hesitates for a moment before opening his journal and offering Markus the open page. There’s Connor’s profile complete with yellow LED and heavy scarring on their throat. 

“They’re not bad! They’re deviant like us and they’re quiet and won’t harm anyone!” Ralph waves his hands. “They’re resting now! With the lavender. And the bees.”

“Connor said all his backup units were destroyed, and the only active one was killed by Lieutenant Anderson.” Markus frowns, eyes still locked on the drawing. “They don’t...quite look like Connor though. Cheekbones and jawline are different. Browbone slightly more prominent.” All the details only an artist would recognise in another artist’s work, Vincent muses. 

“Not Connor.” Ralph agrees with a nod. 

“Thank you for showing this to me Ralph. I’ll contact Connor and let him know.” Markus returns the journal carefully before paying for his father’s order. “Will they be well enough to come to Jericho?”

“NO!” Ralph shakes his head vehemently. “But...maybe visitors?”

“I’ll ask, and I’ll let you know ahead of time alright?”

Ralph nods reluctantly, hugging the journal to his chest. Markus takes his leave and Vincent rubs Ralph’s back comfortingly. 

“Don’t worry Ralph, Markus won’t let anything bad happen to your new friend.”

* * *

It’s been over a month since the Stratford Tower broadcast, over a month since the Jericho Four sang for the nation’s compassion, to prove they are alive. It’s been over a month and yet Markus Manfred can still stop a room. He walks into Central Station and immediately captivates everyone’s attention, a hush falling over the reception area as he walks to the desk with confident, purposeful strides. 

The closest receptionist gets to her feet immediately, LED briefly flashing red in alarm.

“Markus, sir, I- it’s an honour. H-how may we help?”

“Just Markus.” He insists, eyes flicking to her name badge before reaching over the counter to offer his hand in greeting. “We are equals, Stephanie.”

“Yessir. Markus. Yes, Markus.” She tries again, shaking his hand and he smiles in that charming way of his.

“I won’t take up too much of your time,” he reassures, “is Detective Connor Anderson inside?”

“He is. I’ll notify him of your arrival.” The ST300 blinks, sending the message to the android inside before gesturing at the security gates. “Please proceed... Markus.”

Satisfied, Markus nods and heads to the gates, pausing for them to open before walking into the bullpen.

“Markus, welcome.” Connor greets, hand outstretched.

“What brings Android Jesus to our lonely corner of Detroit?” Hank smirks, gesturing at the empty chair by the desk as Markus shakes Connor’s hand.

“I’m not here on official Jericho business, Lieutenant.” Taking a seat, he looks across the desk at Connor. “I have information for Detective Anderson. Junior, that is.” His grin is somewhat apologetic and Hank shrugs. 

“I’ll go make myself a coffee.”

“Oh, no need, Lieutenant.” Markus shakes his head, expression sly. “You won’t hear a thing.” He turns his gaze to Connor and Connor’s LED flickers yellow. 

“Ah yes, android instant messenger.” Hank rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to his own console. 

_‘I was at Bellini Paints picking up an order for my father, and Ralph was there.’_ Markus begins as Connor leans forward attentively. _‘I mentioned I hadn’t seen him at Jericho recently and he replied he actually had been there this very morning but only to the Med Bay. At the coaxing of Vincent he showed me a drawing of his ‘new friend’.’_ He offers his hand again, this time for a data transfer and Connor retracts his skin to reveal the white casing beneath before grasping his hand firmly. Markus watches carefully as Connor’s LED turns bright red.

 _‘You told me yourself that CyberLife destroyed all the RK800 backup units, including the RK800-60.’_ A nod, and Markus continues. _‘However this android isn’t an RK800, or at least not a backup unit of yours. There are subtle differences. Did CyberLife have an unreleased RK800 variant? Perhaps created for a different branch of police work? Or military?’_

[ _I don’t know._ ] Connor answers truthfully, brows furrowed. [ _This is news to me too. Ms Chloe mentioned there’s a plethora of confidential files she’s managed to uncover and that it would take some time to decrypt them all. Perhaps information about this unit is still yet to be unlocked._ ]

 _‘Connor…’_ There’s something hopeful and encouraging about Markus’ smile as he squeezes his hand. _‘What if we don’t look at this as if they’re a stranger? Ralph said they’re already a deviant. They escaped CyberLife’s abuse and survived. This isn’t just any android, this is your younger brother.’_

“My younger brother.” Connor echoes dazedly, repeating the words aloud. Hank looks up from his screen, blinking curiously. “Hank I-”

“You and Lieutenant Anderson should get in contact with Ms Chloe. See what you can uncover.” Markus suggests, but Connor looks reluctant.

“Shouldn’t I go see him? Meet him in person?”

“Doctor Anthea apparently repaired him this morning and Ralph said he was resting- most likely at the warehouse Ralph lives in on the rooftop of Theobald’s Brewery.” Markus hums thoughtfully. “Ralph was very adamant he couldn’t leave but seemed suitably open to visitors given enough notice. If he’s still recovering then that gives you time to go to CyberLife and see what you can find out. There’s no human traffic around the brewery, so I think he’ll be safe to remain under Ralph’s ample care.”

“Listen, it’s 6:30pm and I doubt the new CEO of CyberLife schedules meetings after 6pm.” Hank cocks a brow. Connor raises his hand and Hank gives a good-natured long-suffering sigh as he nods.

“Counterpoint: Ms Chloe is an android, therefore Ms Chloe does not follow a human routine. Scheduling a meeting with her in the evening would not disturb her as she does not need to prepare and consume dinner.”

There’s a moment before Hank groans in frustrated defeat. “Okay but _I_ need to eat dinner.”

“Hank, at no point did I mention you need to be involved with this meeting. I was going to suggest you go home, and I will meet with Ms Chloe myself.” Connor frowns and Hank scoffs.

“You said ‘younger brother’ didn’t you?”

“Yes?”

“That makes him an Anderson too.” The man gets to his feet and swipes his jacket from the back of his chair. When he looks at Connor, the android looks torn between surprise and gratefulness. “Well come on then, I haven’t got all night. We’re swinging by the Chicken Feed first though, so I can get dinner to go- that’s my one condition.”

Connor’s face breaks into a wide, beaming smile. “Got it.” 

* * *

He feels better, so much better now he’s replenished his thirium and no longer has to worry about his open wounds. The clothes are a little too big on him but they are comfy and unrestrictive and already worlds different from his uniform. Ralph had left earlier, stating he had an important meeting with a friend and so he’s spent most of the day pacing around the greenhouse and taking stock of his surroundings. There’s much to do since the greenhouse wasn’t finished by the time the revolution happened, and he makes notes on what needs completing. He’s not a construction android by any means, but he is stronger than the average WR600 and the tasks seem simple enough to accomplish. There’s the beginnings of a natural hive in the top left hand corner of the greenhouse and the bees are using a small hole in the glass to leave if they are not collecting from the available blooms inside. Perhaps he can also construct a proper hive for them with frames for collecting honey. 

When he’s completed the list of upcoming tasks, he investigates the rows of plants starting to poke up from the dirt. Detroit’s urban farms were created to provide communities with fresh produce at affordable pricing since it no longer had to be imported. He can identify lettuces, cauliflowers and broccolis. There’s carrots and beets, tomatoes and sugar snap peas. None of them are ready for consumption, but perhaps in a few weeks they will be bigger, riper and ready for harvesting. The thought thrills him, that he has something to care for, to watch grow and to harvest when ready; something to look forward to that isn’t a mission based on harming another being. He touches the curling tendrils of the sugar snap peas growing on the trellis, marvelling at how small they are, how delicate the little white blossoms feel against his fingertips. 

The other side of the greenhouse grows blooms and berries, the scents adequately sweet and heavy to mask the smell of wet soil and fertiliser. They provide a colourful display that breaks up the monotonous greens of the vegetables, and the bees crowd around the bobbing flowers. Everything is somehow both still and steadily busy all at once, and there’s something comforting about the hushed atmosphere contained in this glass enclosure. He’s been in glass enclosures before, under the watchful, critical eyes of the CyberLife team and this is nothing like that. There’s no one here to observe him, no one here to assess his performance, to criticize his actions, to recalibrate his programming. There’s no one here at all, actually, no one but the bees. There’s not a single human soul, and for the first time in all his life he feels at ease. 

When Ralph returns as the sun is setting, he crouches down and rummages through a repurposed crate, pulling out a worn black tarp used for covering cargo to protect it from the elements. He gestures for him to lean down, and he throws it around his shoulders, tucking it like a shawl.

“There. This is old but still good. Keeps rain away and warmth in.” Ralph smiles and he finds himself trying to smile too. It’s an odd gesture, his face unused to pulling on his mouth that way but he must manage it sufficiently well because Ralph lets out a delighted laugh. “Stay here for a while. It’s warm here, it’s safe here. Ralph makes sure no humans come, Theo makes sure no humans come. No one will hurt you. Ralph will be your friend.” The android pats his shoulder and it startles him to realise no one has ever extended such kindness to him, ever. He nods slowly and Ralph claps his hands, bouncing on the spot. “Good good! Maybe when you’re rested, you can help Ralph garden! Ralph can teach you! But rest first, yes, Doctor Anthea said so.”

He’s still smiling, or well, at least trying to, as he heads back to that now familiar spot between the lavender. The sunlight is fast fading, so Ralph eagerly piles him with more blankets before shuffling away to tend to his plants. Closing his eyes he lets himself run the proper diagnostic processes, letting the outside world fall away except for Ralph’s cheery humming.

CyberLife’s greatest killing machine, now hiding in a reclaimed greenhouse under the care of an abused, incredibly enthusiastic and kind WR600. Maybe he’ll make good on his word. Maybe he’ll become an apiarist after all.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all have no idea how much I just want to get to the part where my boy builds a beehive and plays with the bees.  
> Ralph's journal looks a little [like this!](https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.846473442544491) But with less text and more closeup sketches.  
> Hank's like: /hears Connor mention he possibly has a younger brother  
> Hank: DAD MODE ACTIVATE  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

The car’s going to reek of greasy burgers but at least that’s a step up from Wet Dog. Hank tries to eat his dinner as neatly as one can when in a moving car, sparing a glance at Connor every now and then. The kid’s clearly stressed, LED a solid yellow ever since Markus dropped that particular bombshell on their lives: Connor has a younger brother. And so here they are, Connor driving his car to Bell Isle while Hank chows down on a greasy burger as fast and as carefully as he can. He gulps down some water and pops in a mint just as Connor eases the car into one of the guest parking bays out the front. 

CyberLife Tower still looks as menacing as ever though Hank supposes there’s not much anyone can do to soften the look of the slick, imposing building. At least it’s run by a different team now, though Hank would be hard pressed to say he trusts Kamski even with Chloe there to keep him in check. There’s just something so goddamn _slimy_ about the man. 

“Anderson, Connor RK800. Level 50.”

[ _Connor RK800-51 identified. Guest access granted; Level 50_ ]

It doesn’t surprise Hank when Connor digs out the quarter from his pocket, fidgeting with it, flicking it from hand to hand and letting it roll over his knuckles. He catches the coin just as the elevator pings at Level 50 but before Connor strides out, Hank claps his shoulder.

“Deep breath, kiddo.”

“Hank, androids do not-” he cuts himself off when he sees Hank’s cocked brow, nodding reluctantly. “I am...nervous.”

“You’ve a right to be. This is big news and it’s about to get bigger.” Squeezing his shoulder reassuringly, Hank gestures for him to keep going.

They step out into an office suite that’s been mostly overtaken by a lab. There’s Elijah Kamski hunched over something, visor on and soldering circuitry. He’s either completely oblivious to their arrival, or purposefully ignorant; probably the latter, Hank guesses.

“Good evening Lieutenant Hank and Detective Connor Anderson.” Chloe greets them with a polite smile and Hank knows it’s been a month but all he can see is the girl Kamski put on her knees and had Connor point a gun to her head. She’s the CEO of CyberLife now, and learning it had all been a fancy act, fake gun and all, to test Connor’s empathy still gives Hank the chills. At least Kamski looks like a villainous slimeball; Chloe looks like a pretty little doll, and no one in their right mind would suspect she matches, even outsmarts her creator. 

“Thank you for seeing us so late, Miss Chloe.” Connor takes a seat at her desk and Hank plops down beside him.

“I was expecting to see you.” She sits primly behind her desk, hands folded neatly in front of her. “When Dr Anthea requested an urgent meeting with me and told me all that had transpired I knew it was only a matter of time before news reached you. I’ve spent the better part of today trying to gather as much information as I can.”

“Did you know?” There’s something desperate in his tone, something almost accusatory. “Were you aware there was a model to succeed me?”

“No. Elijah and I have been away from CyberLife for a decade now.” She shakes her head, glancing over at the man tinkering away. “We’ve been back less than a month and to say there’s a lot to catch up on is an understatement. CyberLife tried to clean up and hide a lot of their wrongdoings but…”

“But?” Hank cocks a brow, and Chloe smiles prettily, shrugging.

“They’re only human, and the only thing that surpasses a human’s ego is their laziness.” She gestures behind her and a huge holographic screen comes to life, information spilling from ceiling to floor. “They never took the time to scrub their classified data file by file, they just batched them and threw them behind some scrappy coding. There were too many for them to delete by the time we took over so a lot of it just sat around waiting for me to uncover them.” Another little casual shrug, and Hank wonders if the whole Kamski test had been _her_ idea in fact and not Elijah’s. “There’s mountains of data to go through which is why we’ve been unaware of a successor, however it’s easier to search through the data when one has a subject to search for.”

The screen flickers and android blueprints appear, with the word RK900 at the top.

“Here he is, Connor. Your brother.” Chloe smiles gently, and Hank watches Connor’s LED turn bright red. “He’s your finished prototype, spliced with Myrmidon programming and was to be temporarily under Captain Allen’s command for the duration of the revolution aftermath. Once Detroit was back under police control, he was slated for deployment to the arctic to protect thirium reserves from the Russians.” 

“But how- why has he only been found now?” Connor’s eyes are glued to the screen as if to absorb every pixel and commit it to memory. “It’s been a month since the revolution, and weeks since you’ve been here. How is it he turns up at Jericho only now?”

“Here are the injuries Dr Anthea treated.” The screen changes again, and it’s the same blueprints only there’s now bulletholes riddled all over its torso and legs, and its throat has a huge gash. “A bullet tore through RK900’s throat from the side and took out his vocal modulator as well as clipping some nerve biofibres. Though his torso was severely waterlogged, he managed to keep water from his positronic core by clamping his hand over his throat and diverting his thirium supply. He headed for the river to escape, and placed himself in emergency standby.”

“You’re saying the kid was in the water for a whole fucking month?” Hank oggles the screen, counting the bullet wounds. “You can’t fill an android with freezing cold water and expect them to survive, how the fuck did he manage that?”

“He is built to survive in the arctic tundra.” She blinks and the image changes back to the original blueprints. “That means surviving not only sub-zero temperatures but also being submerged in freezing waters. He has different arterial tubing than regular androids, insulated to ensure his thirium supply doesn’t crystalize in the cold. He also has solar cells on his skull plate, allowing him to switch to solar power to conserve his internal battery. All these design changes are what saved him.”

“Okay,” Hank nods slowly, crossing his arms over his chest. “So now what?”

“Now we have to take things one step at a time.” Chloe sighs and Hank’s surprised at how tired she looks. He didn’t know androids could look tired. “In the files I’ve uncovered, we know he was activated on the 15th of October, two months after your activation, Connor. I still haven’t been able to find the files about his escape, but it would’ve occurred sometime before the 20th of November when Elijah became interim CEO, and after the 10th of November which is the last publicly released data log from CyberLife as per the Sentient Life Act agreement.”

“So you’re saying he’s only been consciously deviant for...a day? _Less_?” Connor’s eyes are wide with disbelief. “He deviated, escaped, put himself into emergency standby and ended up at Jericho this morning. He’s- he’s brand new.”

“One step at a time.” Chloe repeats, closing her eyes. “Everything is new to him, his coding shows no social programming, and what’s worse is he has no vocal modulator so he can’t speak until we replace the biocomponent. And even that’s not guaranteed because even though Dr Anthea did her best, the damage may be irreversible. For now he has to rest and recover, and interaction must be kept at a controlled minimum.”

“Because he’s scared.” Hank rubs his temples tiredly. “The kid’s gotta be terrified and way out of his depths, thrown into a new world with a huge chunk missing literally from his throat and figuratively from his memory.”

“He’s safe at present, and she ordered him to run a full system diagnostic and reboot.” Chloe retracts the skin from her hand and reaches across the desk to offer it to Connor. The other android doesn’t hesitate, clasping her hand in his and Hank watches their LEDs flicker yellow-red-yellow-red-yellow; hers returns to blue as she sits back, and Connor’s cycles a vivid red. “Here is everything I’ve uncovered, and everything Dr Anthea learned. Let him rest tonight, and tomorrow you can set about arranging a meeting but remember- go slow. He is, as you said yourself, no older than a day in total in his deviancy.”

“Thank you for all this, Miss Chloe.” Connor nods respectfully and Hank takes that as their cue to go. 

“Connor.” Kamski calls from across the room right as they reach the elevator. He looks over his shoulder, catching Connor’s gaze. “Under no circumstances should you interface with him. I didn’t program the RK900; we don’t know what CyberLife put in his head. I won’t be able to help you this time.”

Hank mulls it over on the drive home, sitting behind the wheel this time because Connor looks too stressed to be driving. They idle at a red light and he glances over at him, LED looking even more alarming in the dark.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay Connor. We’ll go slow, like she said.”

“I was- I’ve been trying to make peace with the fact I am alone.” Connor’s voice is small and tight with emotion. “In an android sense, I mean. CyberLife’s previous team seemed to take great pleasure in informing me all my backups were destroyed, even the RK800-60. They wanted to make me feel abandoned.”

“They’re a bunch of assholes and they can’t hurt you anymore.”

“They’ve already hurt me, Hank.” He says quietly, pointedly staring ahead and avoiding his gaze. “I thought I could at least reach out to RK800-60 after repair and reactivation but they destroyed him along with the rest. I just… I wanted to make amends. I wanted him to see life outside of CyberLife’s control. And they took that away from me. They took _him_ away from me, and they made me feel so alone.”

“But you’re not alone, not anymore.” Hank turns into Michigan Drive, sparing Connor another glance. “You have a little brother, and we’re going to meet him tomorrow.”

Connor only nods numbly, staying quiet even as Hank parks the car and ushers him inside. Sumo sleepily greets them before scratching at the back door to be let out. Connor follows him outside, sitting on the back steps. When it’s clear he isn’t coming inside any time soon, Hank drops down beside him, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

“Hey son, it’s gonna be alright.”

“Hank, this-” he manages to catch his gaze briefly, and Hank’s heart aches when he sees how glassy his eyes are. “Hank I can’t expect you to just accept all this. I- I can seek new housing in Jericho, I’ll take care of him there.”

“Connor.” Hank huffs a tired laugh, clutching him close. “You heard what Markus said, what Chloe said, right? He’s your little brother. And you are my son. So that makes him my son too.”

“It’s not that simple!” He argues, burying his face in his hands. “I can’t- you’ve already done so much for me, you’ve changed my life, but to ask this of you is-”

“You’re not asking anything of me, Connor.” Hank cuts him off sternly. “I’m a grown-ass man making a grown-ass decision. This is my house, I own it, and I get to decide if I want another person moving in, and guess what? I do. If he doesn’t want to move in, that’s another story. That’s his choice to make. But I can offer him a place in my home, in my life, because I want to. And I do.”

“Dad-” Connor chokes back a helpless sob and Hank sighs indulgently, wrapping both his arms around him and tucking him close in a tight embrace. Sumo trots over and slumps against Connor, seemingly jealous there’s a hug happening and he’s not a part of it. He rubs Connor’s back soothingly, mussing his now curly hair.

“Come on. Let’s get some rest. Big day tomorrow.” 

* * *

The diagnostic comes back, giving him 98% functionability; everything is in working order except for his speech, which is fine for now. He doesn’t have much to say anyway. Ralph is already tending to the rows of lettuce, carefully watering them using a watering can refilled from a nearby bucket. Frowning, he gets to his feet and crosses over to his side, touching the irrigation tubing and tipping his head in question.

“Oh, no no it doesn’t work.” Ralph tutts, shaking his head. “None of the systems are hooked up, see?” He points to the tubes snaking around to nowhere on the ground. “Tanks are too heavy for Ralph to carry. Ralph is a gardener, Ralph cannot lift tanks.” A disappointed sigh that soon changes into a cheery grin. “That’s ok though, Ralph is good at gardening! The tanks are full of rainwater and melted snow. Ralph climbs the side of the greenhouse and gets water for the plants.”

That’s not good, he thinks, it’s an arduous and dangerous task to keep climbing the side to reach the elevated tanks. It would be better to simply move the tanks closer and connect them so the sprinkler and drip irrigation system works. He can move the tanks, but he will need tools. There are gardening tools in a small crate but no workshop tools. He opens his palm to Ralph and shows him a series of images of the tools he needs.

“Oh! Oh, you can fix them? With these tools?” He nods. Ralph frowns, brows creased for a few moments. “There is a workshop at Jericho. Big workshop with big printers. They have these tools or- or they can make them. But it’s in Jericho. Which is very big and very busy and not- not quiet for Ralph.” Ralph twists his hands anxiously before squaring his shoulders. “But Ralph can take you, it’s okay! Ralph will- will come with you and show them you are Ralph’s new friend. Mason will let us borrow the tools, he will keep us safe in a quiet place.” 

Jericho, he echoes internally, and for the very first time since deviancy he reaches out and connects to the internet. There’s a pause, a moment, a blink before it’s like being slammed into a wall as information downloads into his mind. Jericho, named after the freighter that was the original hiding place and purposefully sunk to allow the deviants to escape the FBI raid. Jericho, a reclaimed part of the docks now housing most of the deviant population and led by the Jericho Four; Markus RK200, Simon PL600, Josh PJ500, North WR400. 

“There’s important people you have to remember.” Ralph snaps him back to the present, and he retracts the skin from his hand, offering it and awaiting the transfer. A look of sorrow overcomes the WR600’s face and he shakes his head. “Ralph can’t do that anymore. The humans- when they-” he gestures at the scarred half of his face. “They burned part of Ralph’s core. It hurts if Ralph tries to transfer information. Ralph is sorry.”

There’s a moment of silence between them and he thinks that the capacity for human cruelty seems to be endless. Reaching out hesitantly, he squeezes Ralph’s shoulder gently in a gesture he hopes conveys comfort. Ralph perks up and fetches his journal. “That’s okay though! Ralph prepared for this, Ralph drew all the important friends while Dr Anthea was fixing you!” They sit down between the lavender on upturned crates and Ralph opens his beloved journal.

“First, Hailee.” There’s an intricately rendered portrait of an Asian AX700 variant. “One of the guards at the back of Jericho, which is the quiet entrance Ralph likes to use. Not so busy there. Dr Anthea you already know.” He doesn’t stay too long on her drawing, flipping the page. “This is Mason, he’ll help us in the workshop.” TW400, heavy labourer class. He nods and Ralph turns the page. “Rupert. Knows how to garden like Ralph but he doesn’t do that anymore. He loves pigeons! Has many on one of the rooftops in Jericho.” WB200, private residence groundskeeper. Another nod. “Echo and Ripple. Very very nice friends, nice nice friends.” WR400, Traci models, one with long blue hair and one with short auburn hair. “Okay these four are very very important.” Ralph says slowly, before turning the page to reveal four portraits on the double spread. “Markus, Simon, Josh and North. They lead Jericho for us. They’re good good androids, the very best.” RK200, PL600, PJ500, WR400. The Jericho Four. Ralph places the book in his hands.

“Markus visits Bellini Paints sometimes. Bellini Paints is in Greektown and Ralph’s friend Vincent works there. Vincent is…” He trails off, smiling wistfully. “Vincent is very special to Ralph. Markus is very good at painting and very clever. Josh is also very clever. Josh is very patient too, never too fast for Ralph.” A nod as Ralph points at the PJ500 before tapping the WR400. “North is like… fire. The good kind. She is brave and doesn’t like humans like Ralph. She’s very funny too, Ralph likes her.” A pause before he taps the PL600. “Simon is Ralph’s favourite. Simon is very kind. Very soft and gentle. Always has time for Ralph, always has time for everyone. Simon also works at the DPD with-” he turns the page and he recognises that face instantly. “Connor.” RK800, his prototype predecessor. “Connor and Ralph met when Connor was still a machine. He was the Deviant Hunter, and Ralph hid the little girl and her mother before helping them escape. Connor chased them but they luckily got away. Connor is different now, though. Connor is deviant and he’s trying very hard to be friends.” Ralph looks at him curiously, hopefully. “Connor is your big brother, like how Danny is Simon’s big brother. Danny works at the bakery near Bellini’s. Danny is a good friend too. Danny is also trying very hard to be friends.” There’s another PL600 portrait though this one seems sterner, with scarring on one side of its face. “Deviancy was hard for a lot of androids, like Ralph. Like Danny. Like you too. Humans lied to us, humans hurt us. Promised us good things and did the opposite. Connor has a human now, a father. So you have a father too, maybe? Maybe he is one of the good humans. There’s not many of them Ralph knows. Maybe Ralph can know this one too?”

He closes the book carefully and hands it back to him, Ralph clutching it to his chest reverently. He nods slowly. Yes he hopes so too. 

* * *

She likes hanging out at the fabrications warehouse. It’s always noisy not with chatter but the sound of machines. There’s something comforting about it, about the shrieking of sawblades through steel and the mechanical whirring of the 3D printers. This is where they make anything and everything that they need to build anything and everything. There’s a thrill to be found in watching the TR400s and TW400s lift up beams and barrels and carry them like they weigh nothing. North loves seeing something go from plan to production, to watch something be built from the ground up. They’re literally making history right here, they’re carving out their own place without any human intervention.

Up ahead she sees one of the TW400s she knows- Mason, a deviant from the original Jericho. He’s setting down a steel beam in order to greet a smaller android, and North brightens when she recognises them.

“Ralph!” She calls out and gives a cheery wave as she makes her way over. “What are you doing back at Jericho?”

“North!” Ralph laughs, holding his hands out, palms bared, ready for her to slap down a greeting before she does the same. Neither of them like being held- it reminds North far too much of her Eden past and Ralph had been restrained by humans who thought taking a blowtorch to his face was all in good fun. “Ralph is here with a friend, see?” He gestures at the looming figure behind him and North’s eyes widen.

“You’re-” a pause, “Connor’s brother. Markus told us about you.” She gives him a onceover, taking in his towering height, his broad shoulders and chest, his cold grey eyes and the awful, awful scarring on his throat. 

“We’re here to borrow tools to fix up the greenhouse!” Ralph explains excitedly. “Ralph doesn’t know how to do those things but Ralph’s friend does!” 

“That so?” North smiles at his excitement. “That’s pretty cool Ralph. You’ll have to show me your progress next time you visit, okay?” 

“Ralph promises!” 

North steps back to let Mason take them to the 3D printers, and presses two fingers to her LED. _‘You ready to meet your brother, Connor? He’s here at Jericho.’_

Hank knows how significant this is: being human and allowed into Jericho. He is one of three exceptions to the No Humans Allowed sign, the other two being Leo Manfred, recovering and repentant brother to Robo-Jesus himself, and Elijah Kamski, creator of their kind. He is permitted because he is the father of the one who broke free from CyberLife’s chains and helped turn the tide to win the revolution. The irony isn’t lost on him either, knowing full well Connor disobeyed the No Androids Allowed sign on the door at Jimmy’s Bar when they met that fateful night last month. 

They’re using the back entrance to avoid the main crowds; he may be one of the exceptions but that doesn’t mean every single android will be glad to see him. There’s even an android guard flanking his other side, with Connor on his left to bracket him. Just in case. They’re heading towards the main Jericho workshop, Connor had received a call earlier from North informing him that’s where the RK900 is at present, with the deviant who rescued him.

“Slowly, Connor.” He grips his elbow to halt him. 

“RK900.” Connor keeps his voice even though Hank can see his bright red LED. The tall android looks up from one of the printers, turning to face them. He has Connor’s face but as if CyberLife decided to take all the warmth from it, all that almost goofy softness that makes Connor look so open and friendly. The RK900 looks cold and intimidating, as if crafted with a permanent murderous stare. Hard to see a killing machine though, when he’s standing there in ill-fitting clothes with a slightly worried expression on his face and some godawful scarring on his throat, holding what looks to be a honeycomb frame in his hands. “My name is Connor Anderson. I am the RK800.”

He nods slowly, and hesitantly steps forward. The android beside him spots Hank.

“NO HUMANS ALLOWED AT JERICHO!” He screeches, brandishing a gardening trowel and immediately shoving the RK900 behind him. It’d be almost comical if not for the sharp tool pointed at his throat. 

“Ralph it’s okay! It’s okay!” Connor steps in front of Hank, hands up to placate him. “This is Hank, my father. He’s allowed here in Jericho if he comes with me. We’re here for my brother.”

Ralph debates with himself silently, mouth pressed into a hard line before he lowers the trowel and huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can’t stay here long.”

“I won’t.” Hank promises, also showing his bare palms. “I’m just here to meet Connor’s little brother, that’s all.”

“You’re not taking him!” Ralph spits. “He’s staying with Ralph! He’s going to fix the greenhouse!”

“Hello.” Connor’s voice is almost lost to the din of machinery, and Hank watches him slowly approach the RK900 who clutches the honeycomb frame nervously in front of him almost like a shield. “I- I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. I thought I was alone for the longest time, you see. I’m glad Ralph found you and rescued you. I’m glad you’re alright.” The RK900 looks at him warily, darting Hank a glance too. “You don’t have to come with us, not now. Not ever, if you don’t want to. I just wanted to show you you’re not alone in your line either. CyberLife failed to keep us apart. They didn’t win. We did.”

His LED spins bright red and Connor takes a step back to give him space. 

“What you got there, son?” Hank keeps his tone soft so as not to startle him, and the RK900 hesitantly holds out the frame. “For a hive? Is there a hive at the greenhouse?”

He nods enthusiastically, all wariness gone as he steps forward and thrusts out his hand. A macro photo of a bee on a sprig of lavender is displayed holographically from his palm, before it turns into a photo of a natural beehive in the top corner of what Hank assumes is the greenhouse.

“You’re making them a proper hive, that’s very good.” Hank compliments, and the RK900’s lips twitch up briefly in a shy smile. “Guess you androids don’t even need to put on a suit when handling the honeycomb frames, that’s pretty lucky.”

The image on his palm changes to show blueprints of a hive, neatly planned so there’s to be minimal disturbance to the bees and an easy vertical extraction for the honey. Trust an android to come up with a super efficient way to house and harvest bees. 

He closes his hand and the image vanishes, the skin retracting to reveal his plastic casing before he outstretches his hand to Connor. All of a sudden Hank remember’s Kamski’s words, and Connor must too because his son shakes his head.

“I can’t, I’m sorry. I-” he wants to, he desperately wants to, that much Hank can see. “CyberLife put a very dangerous program in me and I was only able to break free because I had Elijah Kamski’s help. The same program might be in you. I don’t know if it’s safe for us to interface.” The RK900 lets his hand drop by to his side, the skin slowly covering the plastic again. There’s disappointment on his face and Hank knows this is hurting them both. Connor reaches out hesitantly, closer and closer until his hand touches his brother’s cheek. 

“You don’t know how happy I am to meet you.” His voice wavers with static, LED still unchanged from its neon red. Slowly the RK900 moves to cover Connor’s hand with his own, leaning in to his touch and closing his eyes. “You’re my family. I thought I didn’t have anyone left in my line. I’m so glad I do.”

“M-maybe…” Ralph pipes up, anxiously twisting his hands. “Maybe Connor can visit Ralph at the greenhouse. When the greenhouse is ready. Human father can come too. Come meet the bees. They will have a new home by then.”

“Thank you Ralph.” Connor nods gratefully. “We’d love to.”

The meeting has run its course and Hank knows they need to leave. He clasps Connor’s shoulder reassuringly, and guides him to step away. They leave the workshop and Hank doesn’t miss Connor’s subtle trembling. There’s quick footsteps behind them and when Hank whirls around the RK900 is grabbing Connor’s sleeve. His brows are creased with worry, LED glaring the same bright red as Connor’s.

“Hey little brother.” He soothes, and the RK900 hesitantly steps a little closer. Hank’s suddenly struck by how familiar this all is; Cole behaved the same way when he wanted attention but was too embarrassed to voice it. 

“You’re alright, kid.” He has to reach up a bit higher than he has to with Connor, to squeeze his arm and he tries not to think about how solid it feels. “We’re not far. You can contact us through Jericho or the DPD. When you’re ready, of course.”

Seemingly tired of trying to hold himself back, Connor tips up on his toes and wraps his arms around his brother, crushing him close. “Take your time, okay? Take all the time you need.”

After a moment, the RK900 lifts his arms and wraps them around Connor in return, and Hank remembers their first embrace outside the Chicken Feed, how Connor had mimicked his actions because he didn’t know what it was like to hold and be held. God it just breaks his heart and fills him with shame that he once thought they couldn’t feel. 

The other android nods slowly before stepping back, and he remains there, watching, as they’re escorted out of Jericho. Hank looks at his son and he knows he should say something because the boy looks like a mess of emotions. Nothing comes to mind though, nothing seems appropriate, so he settles for slinging an arm around his shoulder as they walk back to the car together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The vertical extraction hive already exists](https://www.facebook.com/flowhive/videos/198078361592136/), and it's my dream to have one. Oh to be free of capitalism and just care for my bees and harvest urban honey...  
> Also I like to think for all her demure demeanour and her sweet face, Chloe is still a Kamski.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with GORGEOUS art by [kokoneakita] ([Twitter.](https://twitter.com/kokoneakita/status/1290003324444401664)[Tumblr.](https://kokoneakita.tumblr.com/post/625365571382460416/)[Instagram.](https://www.instagram.com/p/CDZeiyiqzWy/))

The bonds between them can have many names, and no one else can define them but those involved; some androids use the term batch mates, some use the term siblings, others prefer to see androids that are the same model as them as complete strangers. When Markus tells them Connor’s brother has been found, when North tells them Connor’s little brother is in Fabrications, Josh decides to seek him out and meet him. The ex-deviant hunter’s solitary existence had become very public knowledge when CyberLife announced the destruction of all RK800 units as a ‘show of good faith’ to Detroit’s citizens, hoping to appease the public by siding with the humans. To learn that another model exists, that Connor is not alone, is wonderful news.

He’s not sure what to expect when he goes to Fabrications. Some succeeding models look identical to their predecessors, with the upgrades existing in their programming and capabilities, and other models look nothing like their predecessors. Connor’s little brother is in between, looking much like an altered version of Connor’s base model; the successor is taller and broader, face more angular and severe, and built to intimidate. Though he certainly doesn’t look very intimidating with a scarred throat and clothes a little too big for him. 

“Hello. My name is Josh. You must be Connor’s brother.” He introduces himself when he’s caught his attention. The android puts down a wooden slat and offers his hand politely, grip firm when they shake hands. “It’s nice to meet you. Welcome to Jericho.” He nods, lips twitching up in a shy smile. “I work in Administration, and we have a database of our population. I’d like to add you to that, if that’s alright?”

“Oh um, he doesn’t have a name yet.” Ralph pipes up behind him. “He has a serial number though, Dr Anthea saw it.”

“That’s alright.” Josh reassures him when the android’s brows crease, LED swirling yellow. “There’s plenty of time to choose a name. What matters is you’ve been found, and now you know you have family.” 

The android holds up his palm and displays a line of text. [RK900 313 248 317 - 87]

Josh registers the serial number right below Connor RK800 Anderson 313 248 317 - 51. 

They head back to the greenhouse in a delivery truck laden with equipment. Ralph wiggles in his seat excitedly, clapping his hands.

“We can fix the greenhouse now! We can have sprinklers and irrigation and lights! And and and fix the broken glass!” He holds out his hand and displays a photo of the hive. “Oh and the bees! Yes yes, we can give the bees their new home!” Ralph pats the vertical hive. “They’ll be much happier in here, warmer too! Yes, the bees will be warm and happy!” 

The androids enthusiasm is infectious, and he finds himself smiling wistfully for the rest of the drive. He has an older brother who has a human father. He has met two of the Jericho Four. It has been quite a day and it’s far from over. Though Ralph isn’t a labourer, his WR600 programming still has blueprints for basic gardening equipment maintenance and troubleshooting. It allows him to instruct him on how to connect things, where to place heavy tanks and together they make short work of taking care of the basic repairs. The rows and rows of vegetables now have proper irrigation, and there’s now proper access to the rainwater tanks so Ralph no longer needs to endanger himself climbing up to reach into them. The greenhouse has proper lighting now the bulbs have been installed and the power fed from a solar generator. Two new glass panels seal the place and make it waterproof, and that leaves just the hive in the upper corner.

“Time to move the friends into their new home!” Ralph bounces excitedly. “Ralph will stay here. They might crawl into Ralph’s wounds and that’s not good. You will climb up and take the hive apart carefully to look for the queen. When you have the queen the rest will follow!”

He nods, bringing the new vertical hive to stand directly beneath the natural hive. 

“You have to take off your skin, the bees might get pollen and honey stuck in the cells.” Ralph nods wisely. “And rub lavender on your hands so you smell nice for them. Remember to be slow and thorough. Too fast and they get scared!”

He nods again, retracting his skin and picking a sprig of lavender to crush between his fingers and coat them in the fragrant oil. Climbing up the ladder, he approaches the hive carefully and reaches out to gently brush his fingers against the closest row of honeycomb. The bees ripple in the wake of his touch, some curiously crawling along his hand. They are soft, their chubby bodies covered in fine bristles with incurving hairs on their legs to act like baskets for pollen. Their little feet tap along his hand as they roam over the surface. He keeps his movements slow and measured as he breaks a large piece of honeycomb away so he can see into the main hive. His HUD lights up, initiating his scanning ability as he searches for the queen. It takes him a good two minutes to locate her, and extracting her from the swarm takes just as long. He holds her in his closed palm, careful as he descends the ladder. The bees swirl around him, flying around his fist, seeking their queen. Ralph opens the roof of the hive and points.

“Put her inside and they’ll follow! You’ll see!” Nodding, he opens his palm and releases her safely inside the new structure along with a few pieces of honeycomb from the original hive. True to Ralph’s words, the rest of the swarm soon descend, following their queen’s scent as she inspects their new abode. He sits down in front of the hive and just watches in fascination as more and more join her, their loud buzzing filling the air as they crawl around the new frames. Ralph keeps his distance though he’s no less excited to see them, bouncing every now and then. 

“When they’re all in there, you can take the old hive and get the honey!” Ralph points up. “And then soon there will be new honey in the new hive!”

He finds himself smiling again, and he holds out his hands close to the entrance of the hive. The bees curiously hop onto his palms, crawling around before flying away, disinterested when they’re unable to find any nectar to consume. 

“Hello?” A new voice calls from the entrance of the greenhouse. Ralph perks up.

“Simon!” He giggles, running to him and grabbing his hands in greeting. “You’re here to see Ralph!”

“I am!” The PL600 laughs. “I came to say hello to you, and to your new friend.”

“He’s making friends with the bees.” Ralph nods solemnly, pointing. “He built them a new home!”

“Is that right?” Simon’s smile is gentle as he makes his way over to him. “Hello, my name is Simon.” He holds out his hand and Simon laughs when they shake hands as a pair of bees land on them. “Your hands are covered in lavender oil, they must think you smell wonderful.”

“It’s a trick! To help them feel safe.” Ralph informs them cheerily. “They feel very safe around him, he’s very careful. He’s a good, careful friend.”

“I’m glad.” The PL600 smiles again, and he thinks he quite likes receiving smiles. “I wanted to talk to you, Ralph, about harvesting the vegetables here when they’re ready. We could really use the produce, and it’d be a shame if you just threw them away and let them rot.”

“It would be a waste.” Ralph frowns. “Vincent has some humans. Danny has humans visit his workplace. Maybe they can have them?”

“It’s still too much.” Simon shakes his head. “Would you let us distribute the harvest to help some humans? There are soup kitchens and rehabilitation centres that could really use fresh produce to feed people.”

Ralph’s frown deepens, and he wrings his hands anxiously. “Ralph doesn’t have to see these humans, right?”

“Absolutely. We’ll just pick up the harvest whenever it’s ready, and deliver it to those who need it most.” Simon promises, squeezing his hands. “I promise. No humans.”

“Danny can have the honey!” Ralph brightens. “For his baking! The humans like sweet things. He can use the honey, and the vegetables can go to the soups!”

“That’s a wonderful idea!” The PL600 compliments as Ralph nearly vibrates with eagerness. “Just tell us whenever you need someone to come pick up produce and we’ll be there.”

“Ok! Ralph can do that!” He nods rapidly before looking over his shoulder, distracted. “Ralph has to take care of the tomatoes now, please excuse Ralph.” The WR600 wanders off, and Simon looks back at him.

“Is it alright if I sit with you for a while?” He nods, and the PL600 sits beside him. “I didn’t get a chance to meet you while you were at Jericho. I was helping out in a different warehouse and by the time I was finished you’d already left. I’m glad you got the help you needed, and I’m glad you got to meet Connor. He’s a wonderful android, and he’ll be a wonderful older brother I’m sure.” Simon admires the hive. “You built this at Fabrications all by yourself? It’s incredible, the design is very clever. I look forward to your first harvest of honey.”

A pause as he looks at the rows of flowers. “What will Ralph do with all these flowers though, I wonder? There’s not enough for it to be sold commercially. The lavender can be pressed for oil I suppose? Some of these are wildflowers though.” He hums thoughtfully, reaching to pluck a few sprigs of lavender. Rolling the stems to twirl the blooms distractedly, Simon gets back to his feet and pads away. The other android starts to pluck blooms and leafy stems, twisting up the front of his jacket to use as a makeshift basket. Plopping back down beside him, he begins to twine and twist the stems together. He tips his head curiously, and Simon smiles. 

“It’s a surprise, you’ll see.” He hums as he works, and he watches his hands deftly craft a wreath of flowers and leaves. “I used to make these for the girls I looked after. They always wanted me to make one whenever we went to the park. It had lots of wildflowers and they’d bring me handfuls and beg me to make them new ones.” He pauses, expression wistful. “I know I’m one of the lucky ones. They treated me kindly. I felt loved.” A heavy sigh. “It feels like a distant daydream, all those days caring for a family and no one else. I miss it sometimes, the simplicity of it all.”

Reaching over, he rests his hand over Simon’s and gives it a gentle squeeze, hoping to convey comfort. Simon smiles gratefully, before pulling away so he can lift up the finished crown and set it gently upon his head. “There we are.” 

The bees catch scent of the new flowers, a few of them floating over curiously and landing on his head. They bob around the blooms, crawling around to seek nectar and collect pollen. Simon laughs brightly, expression endeared. “It’s like bringing lunch for your friends.”

His eyes stray downward, brows creasing as he sees the scarring on his throat. His touch is featherlight as he traces the exposed, warped casing. “Does it still hurt?” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry you had to go through such horrible things to be free. I don’t think anyone could have survived what you survived.”

His expression changes to a gentler one. “You don’t have a name yet do you? What about Ronan? It means ‘little seal’- it’s what the Irish call the son of a selkie.” His blue eyes look wistful again, clouded with nostalgia. “The father of the girls I looked after came from Ireland. He said if he ever had a son he’d name him Ronan, but he had two daughters instead.”

Ronan, he thinks, because he came from the water. He nods, and Simon smiles. “Ronan it is, then.” Looking down at his lap, he places a few flowers into his hands. “Will you help me make a flower crown for Ralph too, Ronan?”

CyberLife built these hands for violence, for death and destruction and here he is, on a rooftop urban farm, using them for crafting a crown of lavender and wildflowers. Here he is, using his hands to move bees into a hive he designed and fabricated, for no other purpose than a desire to do so. He has state of the art optics that can spot enemies across a frozen, dizzyingly barren tundra wasteland and he has used them to find a queen bee in a swarm so he could move her safely. It is, he thinks, the best way to defy CyberLife at every turn. He will not be a vessel of violence, he is not their soldier he is… he is here to nurture life and repair what is broken. 

“See? Nothing to it.” Simon declares with a proud smile when Ronan holds up the finished crown. “You’re a natural.” He trails after Simon when the PL600 stands up, making his way over to Ralph. “We have a present for you, Ralph.” 

“A gift for Ralph?” The WR600 blinks in surprise before he gasps in elation as Simon eases the crown onto his head. “You made this for Ralph?”

“Ronan and I did.” Simon rests his palm gently on his arm. “He’s a very talented friend, isn’t he?”

“Ronan.” Ralph tries out the name, smiling brightly. “Ronan is a very talented friend, yes.”

“I have to get back to Jericho now.” Simon taps his nose fondly. “You two look after each other.”

“We will!” Ralph promises, waving goodbye. Ronan follows him to the entrance, reaching out to snag Simon’s sleeve right before he leaves. He holds out a little posy of wildflowers, leftovers from their crown making. Simon accepts it with a gentle smile, reaching up to cup his palm to his cheek affectionately.

“Thank you Ronan.” He takes his leave and Ronan watches him go and thinks he wouldn’t mind it at all if Simon visited again. Often, perhaps, if he’s lucky. Ralph joins him at his side, giggling.

“See?” He points at his crown, nodding sagely. “This is why Simon is Ralph’s favourite.” 

He nods in agreement. Yes, he thinks, Simon is his favourite too.


	5. Chapter 5

They make concessions for him, because his brother is one of the revolutionaries. That must be the only reason, because he’s sure not just anyone can go to Jericho and ask to see Markus Manfred and be granted an audience at such short notice. He clutches the little jar to his chest protectively, large hands cupping it securely as two guards flank him and escort him deeper and deeper into Jericho. He did not ask Ralph to accompany him, though he made his intentions known, knowing the other android steered clear of this crowded, bustling place unless absolutely necessary. Ronan harbours the same sentiments, but this errand is a necessity today. He’s even wearing new clothes, proper clothes that fit him courtesy of Simon’s second visit the other day. He wishes Simon visited more. Perhaps he will take a detour before returning to the greenhouse, to say hello to Simon.

Markus Manfred has an office, large and filled with light. There are paintings and photographs on all the walls, brightening the otherwise dull space with colour. Rather than a chair and desk with a single computer like human offices, there are screens upon screens everywhere with various information scrolling upwards. Comfy couches are situated cleverly so one can see different screens from different angles. 

“It’s Ronan, isn’t it?” Markus crosses the room, offering his hand. “Simon told me your name is Ronan now.” He nods as he shakes his hand politely. “What can I do for you, Ronan?”

He holds out his gift; a small 250g jar of honey from the first harvest. Markus receives it with a growing smile.  
“From your hive?” Another nod. “What a gift, thank you Ronan. I’ll bring it home tonight and share it with my human family. I know they’ll appreciate it greatly- greater than us androids can, for sure.” He sets the honey down on a small side table before turning back to him. “Are you settling well now? I see you have new clothes, and I’ve heard the greenhouse is fully functioning.”

Ronan nods, opening his palm and displaying a few photos- the hive, the large round cabbages, the sugar snap peas heavy on the trellis. The last photo he shows is Ralph happily hugging a large cauliflower the size of his head, and Markus laughs.

“Wonderful. I’m glad the two of you have grown close. It’s important deviants befriend and bond with each other.” The android clasps his shoulder, giving it a warm squeeze. “Have you thought about staying with Lieutenant Anderson and Connor? Not that I think you should leave the greenhouse permanently, but I’m sure your brother would love to have you home sometimes.”

Ronan fidgets nervously, wringing his hands a little in a gesture he accidentally mimicked from Ralph. He’s not sure. He wants to, though he doesn’t know how to go about it. 

“Would you like me to give you a device with a secure line to the DPD?” Markus offers gently, seemingly picking up on his anxiety. “I know it’s hard to just-” he taps his temple “call him directly, especially if you’re non-verbal. We are adept at ASL, it’s a basic language package installed across every android no matter their model. A video call might be better, or even just messaging him using text. Humans can receive text messages on their phones directly from our wireless too, if you want to contact Lieutenant Anderson.”

He’s kind, he’s so very kind, Ronan realises. This is why people follow him so readily, this is why people love him. He guides, he leads, and he does so with such grace and thoughtfulness. The program is there, like a forgotten package sitting at his feet and Ronan opens it, lets it install and unfurl and attach itself to his language selection. Slowly, he lifts his hand and signs _thank you_. Markus smiles warmly as he hands Ronan a tablet. 

“In a way,” he speaks the words not only with his mouth but with his hands too, “you are also a little brother of mine.”

The meeting is enough to embolden him, and after seeking Simon to say hello then returning briefly to the greenhouse to drop off the tablet, he picks up the second jar of honey and books another cab. At least with Jericho he will always be among his own kind- the DPD is another matter entirely, but Ronan steels himself and gathers what bravery he can scrounge because Lieutenant Hank Anderson and Detective Connor Anderson are here. This is where he would have been, too, if he had not deviated and hidden in the river. 

When he exits the taxi, he has to be careful not to accidentally crush the jar in his hands, so nervous he nearly forgets his own strength and ruins the entire purpose for his visit. The other jar was a gift and this one is more of an offering than a gift. A bribe, in a way. He enters the building and everyone in reception seems to freeze when they see him. He approaches the ST300 straight ahead of him and places the jar carefully on the desk.

“Can I help you?” She tips her head slightly, and already he can hear whispers around him because he knows his face looks so much like his brother’s. 

_I am here to see Detective Connor Anderson._ He signs carefully, mouthing the words, and she nods.

“Do you have authorisation?”

He shakes his head, unaware that was something he needed.

“I will have to see if he is free to receive civilian visitors. What is your name?”

_Ronan_ , he signs slowly, still trying to get used to spelling each letter.

“Please wait a moment, I will contact him.”

A moment is all it takes because Connor himself appears at the security gates, smile broad and bright.

“Ronan!” He waves him over, glancing at the ST300. “Please let him in, Ms Stephanie. He’s my brother.”

“Please proceed.” Stephanie smiles as he retrieves the jar and passes through the gates. Everyone is looking at him, both humans and androids. He tries to ignore them, but they stare openly like he is an oddity, a bauble to be gawked at. Ronan ducks his head a little, focusing on Connor’s back as his brother leads him to his desk.

“Hey kiddo.” Hank chuckles in greeting, standing to clap his shoulder. “Good to see you.”

Connor pulls up a spare chair beside him and gestures for him to sit down. He does so obediently, before reaching to place the honey jar on the desk.

_This is for you._ He signs to Hank, who blinks in confusion. Oh. He must not know ASL. He looks at the phone laying on the desk and connects to it. _This is for you._ He sends the message, and Hank’s brows raise in surprise.

“That’s neat.” He grins down at the screen before picking up the jar. Understanding dawns on his face. “It’s from your hive, isn’t it? Your first harvest.” His smile is big and proud and it makes Ronan’s chest fill with warmth. “Thanks kiddo.”

_My name is Ronan_. 

“Ronan. Good Irish name, just like Connor’s.” Hank chuckles. 

_I was hoping, if it isn’t too much trouble, if I could visit your home tonight? I would like to meet Sumo_. He hopes it isn’t too big of an ask, and it mustn't be because Hank smiles again, that big proud smile.

“O’course you can. It’s your home too, if you want it to be.”

The Anderson family house is large enough to fit them comfortably and small enough it doesn’t feel oversized. There is room for Hank, there is room for Connor, there is room for Sumo. There is also room for him. 

“This is yours, for whenever and however long you want to stay.” Connor opens the door and gestures at the bedroom within. “There are clothes in the wardrobe and drawers. The ceiling is fitted with UV lights over the bed so you can recharge while lying down.”

He reaches for Connor’s hand and squeezes it to convey his gratitude, his brother smiling fondly in reply. Finding Hank in the kitchen stirring honey into a mug of coffee, Ronan smiles shyly and signs _thank you_ , something Hank recognises with a lopsided grin.

“You’re alright, kid. S’what we do for family. You’re always welcome here.” Reaching across the counter he musses Ronan’s hair, and his hand is heavy and warm and he likes it, he decides. 

The pyjamas are made of flannel, its texture something he’s never felt against his skin, soft and capable of trapping heat. Yes there is a bed for him, but somehow closing the door and staying in an enclosed space in the dark does not appeal to him. He seeks Connor across the hallway, finding his brother sitting up in bed, LED yellow as he processes something.

“Hello Ronan.” He blinks, LED cycling blue. “Come, sit.” He pats the spot beside him, and Ronan closes the door before sliding beneath the covers at his side. “Do you like your room?”

He nods, pausing thoughtfully. _I did not want to stay closed in, in the dark. Reminds me too much of when the scientists would leave for the evening and lock me up._

“Oh.” Connor frowns thoughtfully. “I may have an idea on how to make it feel less like a cell.” He twines their fingers together. “Did you want to stay the night here with me?”

Ronan nods, and Connor shifts to lie down, tugging him to do the same. They face each other, nearly nose to nose. 

“It’s so good to see you, to have you here with me.” Connor bumps their foreheads together. “I thought I’d have to make peace with being alone, being the only one of my kind.”

Ronan traces the slope of his nose, identical to his, before tapping the little beauty spots on Connor’s skin. Little planned imperfections to make him appear more human. Fingers trace along the scar on his neck, and Ronan sees the sorrow in Connor’s eyes.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.” 

Ronan shakes his head, reaching to touch his brother’s LED gently. They’re together now, what does it matter? Sighing, Connor wraps his arms around him and Ronan scoots a little further down so he can tuck his head under Connor’s chin. This is nice. He thinks this might be what _home_ feels like.

* * *

Ethel Marolda has been here since 2022, ever since she and her wife bought the house because of its quaint little style. She knows everyone in this street, has known anyone who has ever moved to Michigan Drive from when they started off as a couple, to having children, to the children growing and moving out. She’s stayed here even after her beloved Eleanora passed away eight years ago, and will stay here until she eventually passes too. She’s put down her roots here, she’s not going anywhere no matter what happens. Not even the President’s evacuation orders made her budge. 

Directly across from her lives Lieutenant Hank Anderson. Everyone in Detroit city knows at least _of_ him, of DPD’s golden boy, the one spearheading the Red Ice Task Force. She remembers him all over the news, remembers Nora joking that yes he’s quite a looker even for a man. She remembers him on the news for a different reason in recent years, of that horrible truck accident and the loss of his son. And then six months later there he was, moving in across from her, looking older and wearier than he ever seemed on the television. She knows every two weeks when he takes the recycling bin out, the following morning there will be an almighty crash of glass bottles clanking and clinking against each other as they tumble into the truck.

Though perhaps it hasn’t been that way for the past month. She knows everyone, and anyone who’s ever moved to Michigan Drive and she remembers one night an awful crash of broken glass and she remembers peeking out through the curtains to see an android breaking into his home. After a while Hank himself had stumbled out with the android into his car and driven off. The revolution happened and she watched it all from her couch because she and Nora certainly could never afford one of those fancy domestics. They did always seem alive to her, though, and so she supposes it’s the right thing to do, to let them be free.

The android moves into Hank’s home, and so there’s Hank, there’s Sumo, and there’s ‘My Name Is Connor The Android Once Sent By CyberLife But Now I Am Just Connor Anderson’ as he introduced himself one evening, all eager and puppylike and asking her if she’d like help taking her bins out. He seems a bright young man, always walking Sumo in the mornings and evenings, and always offering to take her bins out because she knows she looks frail though there’s much life in her yet. She likes him, even though he’s a little strange, a little unaccustomed to _living_ , she thinks, because androids had spent so very long just obeying everything ordered of them.

One day she thinks she sees Connor but it isn’t Connor, he’s bigger than Connor, body language unsure and almost mousey in his shyness. He follows Hank and Connor inside and then leaves with them the next morning by car. He doesn’t return that night, though he does return a few days later. Never stays more than one night, and it happens twice, thrice, four times at most.

Spring comes and the boy stays. The boy (because that’s what they are, she thinks, both somehow boys and men at the same time; smart like geniuses, naive like boys) doesn’t go to work with Hank and Connor. Big delivery vans arrive and it isn’t furniture they unload, but bags of soil and potted plants and trays of seedlings. They unload netting, they unload wooden stakes, wooden slats, long coils of tubing and even two large rainwater tanks. Gardening equipment, she realises. And so it begins, even when it’s pouring with Spring showers, she sees the boy toiling in the small front yard when he isn’t toiling in the larger backyard. He walks Sumo at midday, everyday without fail, and the dog’s looking trimmer than he’s ever looked. He will take a taxi during the late afternoon and return promptly at six in the evening, just before Hank and Connor arrive. 

The front yard starts to transform into an almost meadow-like nature strip, bursting with wildflowers and lavender, so much colour where there had been nothing but dying, uneven grass. She finds herself leaving her curtains open more and more, just to have her afternoon tea by the window and watch the boy care for the flowers. No one on Michigan Drive has a particularly strong greenthumb, not since Nora anyway, and it’s a nice change to see someone else’s yard start to bloom with life.

One morning there is a knock on her door and she opens it to find the boy offering her a basket laden with fruits and vegetables. He holds it out to her but doesn’t give it to her, gesturing awkwardly to seek permission to come inside. She shuffles to the side and he strides in to place it on her kitchen counter before handing her a little envelope. Made of paper. With a paper letter inside. He nods politely and sees himself out, and she takes a seat to read his note written in perfect computer font as if it were typed out and printed rather than pen put to paper.

[Hello. My name is Ronan Anderson and I am an RK900. I live at 115 Michigan Drive with my father Hank Anderson, my brother Connor RK800 Anderson, and our Saint Bernard named Sumo. I suffered an injury to my throat and have no vocal component. I am fluent in ASL and can also be reached via messaging using my serial number #313 248 317 - 87.

I am very strong and offer my aid if you are in need of any physical assistance. I am growing fruits and vegetables in our backyard, and I am also an apiarist. Please accept this basket of produce and do not hesitate to let me know if there is anything you would like more or less of, or want to request I plant for the next harvest. 

Kind regards

Ronan Anderson]

She realises she hasn’t smiled this brightly in so very long, as she presses the letter to her chest. What a sweet darling. Looking through the basket, she finds a small jar of honey amidst the produce and decides right then and there she will bake something with it and bring it over to the Andersons. It’s a shame only one of them will be able to eat it, but she’s sure Ronan will appreciate the gesture. The very next day when Connor turns up to help her with her bins, Ronan is right there by his side. She reaches over to pat his hand, and he smiles shyly and she knows there’s no way he could ever be mistaken for an unfeeling machine.

Spring gives way to Summer, and by God the Anderson house smells heavenly. There’s always foot traffic outside the house, always people stopping by to admire the miniature meadow Ronan has planted that’s now beautifully overgrown in a perfectly manicured way. There are bees, so many bees and butterflies and she wonders if the boy will start a hive right here too. If people stop for long enough, Ronan will dart into the house and back out to offer them something- fresh tomatoes, fresh raspberries, a handful of sugar snaps, whatever he’s managed to harvest recently. 

People grow accustomed to him, people get used to seeing him toiling away, nurturing the garden that grows and grows. She watches as one sunny afternoon the Tran children nervously tap his shoulder when he’s crouched down tending to his lavender, and she watches him leave with them. She has to exit her house and stand on the porch to see where they lead him, and it’s to their house where they’ve lost their soccer ball to the roof. The android simply jumps up, all elegant catlike grace, and tosses it down to them. They cheer and laugh and bounce up and down, clinging to his hands, and he smiles that shy smile she’s come to find incredibly endearing.

After that it’s like the red tape has been cut, and everyone seems ready to approach him. It’s the Van Egmond children asking him to rescue their cat from a tree, and then it’s the Jamieson sisters asking if he could help change their flat tire (to which she watches in great amusement as he simply lifts the car with one hand and takes out the tire with the other, no equipment needed). It’s the Gauci and Leone cousins hurriedly, anxiously grasping his wrists and running him to the Sandhar house where a baby bird has fallen out of its nest in their yard and they need him to carefully place it back before the mama comes home.

The Kamcevs welcome a baby, and there’s Ronan with not only a larger basket of produce but groceries too, all the staples new parents are too busy to go out and buy; milk, bread, eggs, and toiletries. He even, very shyly, knocks on her door one morning and asks if she can teach how to bake a simple berry loaf with the berries he’s harvested so he can give it to Mrs Kamcev. She says yes, of course, and plops her old sunhat atop his head because she has no strength left for gardening and she hates seeing him out there for hours and hours under the hot sun.

It’s Wednesday morning and it’s recycling week and she watches as the truck pulls up in front of the Anderson house. There’s no almighty crashing, clanking, clinking of empty alcohol bottles- hasn’t been for months now, and there’s a whole story to be told with just that little development. The door opens and Sumo trots out dutifully, and then there’s Connor holding the leash, and Ronan exiting soon after, fingers pinching his brother’s sleeve as if to anchor himself to him. And then there’s Lieutenant Hank Anderson locking up right behind him. The man looks at ease, hair and beard trimmed short, face lax and mouth tilted up in a content little smile. He falls into step with his boys, and she watches them as they walk further and further down, turning at the corner. 

Life is good here on Michigan Drive. She knows anyone and everyone who’s ever moved here, she knows all their stories, mostly ordinary, but she thinks the happiest story yet is of Hank Anderson and his sons. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spruiking Koko's GORGEOUS art again ([Twitter.](https://twitter.com/kokoneakita/status/1290003324444401664)[Tumblr.](https://kokoneakita.tumblr.com/post/625365571382460416/)[Instagram.](https://www.instagram.com/p/CDZeiyiqzWy/))  
> And thank you so much for reaching the end, I hope you enjoyed this rather indulgent AU. In these trying times, I hope it gave you a little comfort to imagine soft apiarist RK900 with his beloved hive.  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm still on this hellsite.](https://archadianskies.tumblr.com/)


End file.
